Chapter 47
Every Birth Is A New Chapter In The Book Of Time
LYRA
Checking over my shoulder frequently, I hurry across the last of the rocks to the safety of the larger boulder I hid behind before and stop there, peeking around. As soon as things calm down, I’ll go somewhere safer to hide.
But the disturbance doesn’t calm. It grows.
The waters bubble up higher and higher, reminding me of videos I’ve seen of a broken water pipe. But the water is still gold, stained with the father of the universe’s blood and guts.
Then, with the force of a geyser, water explodes hundreds of feet into the air.
I duck down, throwing my arms over my head, ready to be scalded to death. But the water never hits me. I can still hear the violence of it, though, a mix between the sounds of steam, white-water rapids, and a dull roar.
Carefully, I peek back up to see the explosion is not frozen, exactly—the water is still moving upward and out, forming something like an umbrella, or…not an umbrella…a platform.
On the top of it, I can see the figure of a person.
It can’t be Uranus, can it? Wouldn’t he still exist in my present day if he’d survived? He died here. He must have died here, or the world would still know him.
The waters start to lower almost gently as the sun on the horizon dips and backlights the figure atop the fountain.
A woman.
Even thieves are taught the history of our gods. My memory finally kicks in—something that should have happened much sooner. I blame shock.
I know who this is.
Everyone knows her origin story.
Aphrodite.
Rather than lowering her into the waters, the gurgling platform on which she stands leans out and gently deposits her on the rocky beach, then eases away, almost as if it’s slinking off in sorrow, leaving her there alone.
She stands perfectly still in all her natural glory, the most beautiful figure I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen her up close.
She looks around almost dazed as if she’s not quite sure where she is, and perhaps she’s not sure.
After all, babies cry as soon as they leave their mother’s womb.
It must be startling to come into the world not knowing anything about it other than the fact that it’s different from where you have just been.
She takes a single, wobbly step, and almost like that movement knocks her out of her shock, she cries out a single word, which even I don’t understand. Then she falls to her knees, seemingly uncaring about the rocks…and sobs.
She covers her face with her hands, rocking back and forth.
I have seen devastation like that. I’ve felt it.
Everything inside me cries out for her and pressures me to go to her. No matter how it happened, Aphrodite is my friend.
I only take one step around the rock toward her before Cronos suddenly shows up. He’s not alone this time. Rhea, Iapetus, and Phoebe are with him.
“How is this possible?” I think I hear Rhea ask. Her voice is sweet, even this long ago, drifting to me on the winds.
I tuck back behind my rock and watch as they scoop up the brand-new goddess, born of the ichor blood and semen of their murdered father.
Though wouldn’t that make her a Titaness rather than a goddess?
Iapetus scoops her up, Aphrodite still crying, and follows Cronos off the beach.
Rhea puts her hand on her husband’s arm, leaning into him.
And the winds stop in that moment, so I am able to catch her words.
“We must bind her powers. She can’t be allowed to finish what your father wanted to do to Hades. ”
When the Titans are gone, I slump to the ground, leaning against the rock and thinking through all I just witnessed.
Poor Aphrodite.
She feels emotions deeply. She cares about mortals’ experiences of this life. She truly is the embodiment of love, even if she thinks of that power as weak. It’s not. Apparently, her weakness isn’t love. Her weakness is whatever they did to her.
But I can’t blame them for that, either. Not after I saw a grandfather try to kill his innocent grandson.
I barely even notice when time returns me to Tartarus.
I just know that one second, I’m leaning against the boulder on the beach, and the next, I’m leaning against the pillar of the earth close to the obstacle course.
Cronos is here still, and Rhea is, too, now.
Looking at me like I’m a rabid dog that might turn and bite at any moment.
“The Pandemonium?” I ask.
Rhea shakes her head. “It’s been days now.”
Days?
Actually, that doesn’t matter. Not after what I’ve witnessed.
In a rush, I’m across the stone floor to throw my arms around Cronos, burying my face in his chest. “You always loved your children,” I whisper. “I’m sorry for what they were made to do to you.”
I can feel the tension abandon him as he lets out a deep breath. Then, slowly, gently, his arms come around me, and he rests his chin on top of my head.
“She knows,” I hear Rhea say from nearby.
And feel Cronos nod, then hear his whisper. “Things are going to be different.”